


The Spine of Your Body and Its Bones

by amaranth9



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaranth9/pseuds/amaranth9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Margaery/Robb: Five times Margaery and Robb almost got caught having sex around Winterfell and/or Highgarden, and the one time they did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Willas, In the Gardens

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from e e cummings' poem "I like your body when it is with your body". No copyright infringement intended, no profit made on this work or its title. Written for the ASOIAF Kink meme prompt, Round 9: Margaery/Robb: Five times Margaery and Robb almost got caught having sex around Winterfell and/or Highgarden, and the one time they did. Not beta-ed; hopefully I caught all my mistakes. I kind of left the timeline vague, especially with events North of the Wall. I couldn't resist mentioning Ygritte, as Jon was being all brooding and tragic and I love them both. Pretty much AU from the first book on.

“You are a cruel, cruel, woman to take advantage of your brother’s infirmity like this,” Robb said, in a very serious tone, but even in the dim light of the evening Margaery could see his eyes gleaming with mirth. 

“Hush,” she chastised.  “I’m only taking advantage of my parents’ poor choice of a chaperone to have you to myself for once.  You’re leaving tomorrow!”

Robb allowed her to drag him through the garden.  She was acutely aware of his large, warm calloused hand in hers, and hoped to feel said hand (or preferably hands) on her skin as soon as possible.  Willas knew the gardens as well as she did, but she had a good start on him, and she hoped her chosen hiding place would slow him down further.

Her heart was pounding, with exertion, excitement and anticipation by the time she pulled Robb down beside her on the stone bench.  They were in a veritable maze of hedges, and the seat was set so far back in the shadows that Willas could hobble by them and miss them completely. 

“Kiss me,” she demanded, and leaned in until her teats were pressed against his chest.  Robb groaned breathlessly and complied.  It was a sweet kiss, chaste except for the soft movements of his lips against hers, but utterly unsatisfying given her objective.

“No,” she said sharply as she pulled away.  “Kiss me, properly.”

Robb looked adorably confused, but there was no time to waste.  Margaery captured his face in her hands and used lips and teeth and tongue to coax her betrothed’s mouth open before delving inside.  Soon, she was squirming and breathing hard, and her smallclothes were damp; Robb sounded like he’d just finished a footrace and when she shifted just so she could feel him- his cock- hard through his breeches.  It was so, so tempting to beg him to fuck her.  They were promised to each other, after all, and she ached to feel him there, inside her.  The Starks were an old, honorable family, however, and would expect to see a maiden’s blood on the sheets the morning after the wedding.

Still, there was no need to be completely chaste.  She guided his hand under her skirts and upward, until his fingers were pressed between her legs, with only the thinnest fabric of her smallclothes between them.  They both sucked in sudden breaths.

“Please, Robb,” she breathed against his lips.  His eyes met hers, and he looked as drunk with lust as she felt.

“Margaery, we can’t…”

“Kiss me _here_ ,” she insisted.  “Please Robb, I need you.  I need to feel you…”  To emphasize the point, she pressed his fingers harder against her cunt.

Robb gasped.  Margaery felt herself go even wetter at the sheer heat in his eyes.  For a moment, however, she thought she had lost, and that his damnable Stark honor would win out, when he made to withdraw his hand.   Then he dropped to his knees in front of her.

They both pushed her skirts up over her knees, then past her thighs.  She fumbled a little with the ties of her smallclothes in her haste to get them off.   She had managed to break through his reserve, and Willas could find them soon, and she had to have his mouth on her.  With some awkward wiggling, she worked her smallclothes down past her hips.  She could feel Robb’s hands on hers, eagerly helping her to get the last barrier over her knees.  When she lifted one foot, then the other, he needed no prompting to toss them away.  The warm air felt delicious on her sex, and she spread her thighs eagerly.

“You are beautiful,” Robb said in awe.  “So very beautiful.” 

He shuffled forward on his knees, an eager supplicant.  It took little encouragement to get him to press his face between her legs; she needed only to grasp the soft curls on the back of his head and guide him in.  She liked the feeling of the faint stubble on his cheeks on the inside of her sensitive thighs. 

He was clearly inexperienced, but an eager pupil. 

“Higher, that’s it,” she sighed.  “Right there.  Spread me open.”

Robb moaned at her bold words, and the vibration against her cunt felt so good she whimpered.  He seemed to know what to do, and she felt his thumbs part her folds, then his tongue press deeper into her flesh.  Soon, she was shamelessly rocking her hips against his mouth, imploring him to lick harder, faster.  She peaked once with a sharp cry, then peaked again, her legs fluttering around his head.  She was coming down the second time when she became aware of Willas calling her name from nearby.  Reluctantly, she pushed Robb’s head away.  She was pleased when he groaned in disappointment and tried to pull her close again.

“We need to right ourselves,” she mumured, wiping his glistening face with her sleeve.  “My brother will find us in a moment.”

Robb hastened to comply, rising to his feet and dusting off the knees of his breeches.  The poor thing looked uncomfortable, and Margaery regretted how hastily their very lovely tryst had concluded. 

“Don’t look so sad, sweetling,” she said, pulling him in for a lingering kiss.  The taste of herself on him was both strange and oddly exhilarating.  “That was delightful.  I can’t wait for you to do it again,” she added, with a wicked grin.

Robb’s slow, sly smile in reply made her toes curl.  It was a shame she would have to make do with her own fingers and fantasies until they met again before their wedding.  At least now, she knew he would be an apt student, and she would remember the feel of his breath, his lips and tongue on her cunt and it would make her release so much sweeter.

When Willas stumbled into their path moments later, they looked perfectly presentable. 

“Margaery!  Seven Hells, are you trying to get yourself locked up until the wedding?  Don’t do that again!”

“I’m sorry, dear brother,” Margaery replied.

“Your dulcet voice and innocent smile don’t fool me for a moment, sister,” Willas said, looking them both up and down suspiciously. “I know you, and I am certain you’ve been up to no good.”

“Only a few kisses, brother, nothing more,” she answered.  Robb twitched noticeably next to her at “kisses” but said nothing. “Surely you can’t begrudge me a few moments with my betrothed.  After all, he’s leaving tomorrow.”

The tears she lets fill her eyes were only slightly forced.  She was truly going to miss Robb- and his wonderful mouth.

“Come along, then,” Willas relented with a sigh. “Let us get inside before Mother or _Grandmother_ notices you’re gone and we all get in trouble.”

“You were so very good,” she murmured in Robb’s ear, as they trailed arm-in-arm behind Willas.  “If you leave your door unlocked tonight, I’ll make sure you get a proper thank you.”

“Margaery,” he groaned, and his eyes went hot again.

It wasn’t until she was back in her rooms, planning her assignation with her beloved, that she realized that she would need to go back to the maze in the morning and retrieve her smallclothes.


	2. Catelyn, In the Glass Gardens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn is driven to distraction trying to keep her son and his betrothed out of trouble before the wedding can take place.

“A fortnight,” Catelyn Stark muttered to herself. “A fortnight, and this will be all over.”

That wasn’t entirely true. In a fortnight, Margaery Tyrell would be Robb’s wife and her own gooddaughter and the future Lady of Winterfell. However, Catelyn would no longer be frantic to keep the future bride and groom from slipping away from their chaperones and doing the Gods-only-knew-what before they either reappeared or were caught. She prayed that Margaery got to her marriage bed still a maid.

Margaery was too beautiful and too clever, and, from the moment she arrived in Winterfell, two moons before her wedding to Robb, it was clear she had Catelyn’s eldest wrapped around her little finger. Ned seemed more amused than anxious.

“At least we won’t have to worry about them doing their duty in the marriage bed,” he chuckled, and Catelyn wanted to scream at him.

“And if there is no blood on the sheets? If she’s with child already?” She persisted, strident. But Ned remained infuriatingly calm. 

“I think the Tyrells would be more ashamed by the lack of blood, if we were petty enough to draw attention to it. And if their first babe is born closer to eight moons after the wedding than nine, I think we would all be inclined to look the other way.”

Catelyn was not as convinced as everyone else seemed to be, and she was flummoxed that her normally responsible and level-headed son was so addled with lust that he couldn’t keep his cock in his breeches for just a few more days. If she was the only person in Winterfell willing to save the children from themselves, well, so be it.

The glass gardens were warm, even on the coldest days of winter, and afforded many secluded spots among the plants and fruit trees. It was quiet inside, quiet enough to tell that there were few, if any, people inside. The regular attendants and gardeners were clearly elsewhere.

She was winding herself carefully and quietly through the foliage when she heard a distinctively masculine moan, and froze, holding her breath. She could see nothing, but could hear gasping, a man’s only, not a man and woman together. Was some gardener stroking himself? If so, she had to speak to him about finding a more private and appropriate place to satisfy his needs.

She thought she was closing on her target when she heard a sharp cry and a long groan. If she were to wager a guess, Catelyn would say the man had just peaked. She nearly stumbled on them, unaware, emerging from between two tree branches just as Robb had finished tying his breeches closed, and Margaery had finished dusting off the front of her skirts. Catelyn was both appalled and relieved. Appalled, because Margaery had clearly just been on her knees, servicing her betrothed with her mouth, and relieved because they had just as clearly not been fucking. As much as she disliked Margaery’s worldliness, perhaps Robb’s intended was clever enough to avoid a broken maidenhead or getting with child before her bedding, after all.

“Mother!” Robb, gasped, startled, spying her before she could announce herself. 

“You need to conduct yourself with some discretion and dignity, Robb,” she admonished him. “You can’t keep disappearing with your future bride. Tongues will wag.”

Robb had the grace to look contrite.

“Can I count on you to behave properly until the wedding?” She asked, turning her attention to Margaery.

“Of course, Lady Stark,” Margaery replied, although Catelyn was sure she intended nothing of the sort.

A fortnight later, Lady Stark was deliriously happy to see them both finally wed, and almost equally happy to see the bedsheets spotted with her gooddaughter’s maiden’s blood the next morning.


	3. Ned, In His Study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robb and Margaery use Ned's study most inappropriately.

Robb was only intending to retrieve some papers from his father’s study, but his wife, the minx, followed him and shut the door behind them, throwing the bolt of the lock with a snap.

“Margaery, what…” He began, but broke off abruptly, when she lifted her skirts high enough to reveal she wasn’t wearing any smallclothes underneath. He had his breeches undone and his cock out in moments, and Margaery nearly ran to his side of the desk, then bent, face down, over its surface.

“Hurry, Robb,” she groaned, gazing over her shoulder at him. “I need you.”

They fucked often, sometimes two or three (or four) times a night, but this was new, wicked and exciting. Robb had been certain their constant hunger for each other would fade over time, days and then moons after their wedding, but so far, it had not. If anything, they just grew less constrained, not restricting themselves any longer to their bedchamber, at night.

Robb was not particularly gentle as he shoved his wife’s skirts up over her perfect, white arse, but she didn’t seem to mind. Instead, she wiggled her backside and sighed and pushed back against his cock when he began to probe between her legs. He groaned when he found her wet already.

“Did you get yourself wet before you sought me out?” He gasped.

“I did,” she replied. “I touched myself, thinking of you. Then I knew you had to fuck me, to make the ache go away.”

“Margaery,” he choked out. 

He sank into her, and she was warm and soft and oh, so ready for him. They set a punishing pace, right from the start, fast, hard and almost frantic. He was dimly aware of Margaery high, thready whines, of her clawing at the desk where she braced herself. He could hear the slap of their skin as he thrust forward and his wife thrust back, the wet slap of his balls against her cunt. When he leaned forward to brace himself against the desk, to press him chest against her back and draw her closer, Margaery gave a sharp cry, and he was worried for a moment that he had hurt her.

“Oh, yes! Oh, right there! Oh, Robb! Robb!”

Thank the gods, he thought, when he felt her clench and then ripple around him a few moments later. She peaked with a strangled scream, her lips clamped together to muffle the sound. He spilled within her with a ragged grunt of relief, his hips stuttering to a stop. Robb had just collapsed over his wife’s back when he heard the pounding on the door.

“Why is this bloody door locked?” His father’s voice called from the other side.

Robb gasped and scrambled backwards, his limp cock pulling free of Margaery. He was too panicked to think about how uncomfortable it was, especially when he had to stuff himself, wet and sticky and only just sated, back in his breeches. Margaery stood calmly and pushed her skirts back down over her hips, smoothing them down. She looked perfectly composed in moments, while Robb struggled to tie his laces.

“Thank you, my love,” she murmured, leaning over to press a kiss to Robb’s lips. “That was precisely what I needed.”

With a triumphant smile, she strolled to the door and unlocked it. Robb had only just managed to finish righting himself and pulling his doublet down properly when the door swung open. His father looked only a little surprised to see his gooddaughter.

“Lord Stark,” she addressed him, dropping into a shallow, neat curtsey before sailing past him, into the hall.

Eddard Stark turned to look at his son, and in that moment Robb knew that his father knew exactly what had transpired in the room. To his great alarm, his father stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Robb shuffled a little farther away from the desk and closer to the door, and freedom, feeling like a child caught making mischief, which he supposed was exactly what had happened. 

“Son,” Lord Eddard said, carefully, his gaze fixed on the floor beneath his feet. “One day, you will be Lord of Winterfell, and this will be your study.”

He looked up to meet Robb’s gaze, and Robb wanted nothing more than sink through the floor in utter embarrassment.

“When that happens, you will, of course, be free to use it whenever you see fit. Until that time, this is my study, and would appreciate it if you did not treat it as just another room in the keep.”

“Of course, Father,” Robb replied. “I apologize. It was inconsiderate of us. It won’t happen again.”

His father clapped him on the shoulder with a smile.

“Good,” he said. “There are far more interesting places in Winterfell, if your bedchambers aren’t to your liking.”

Robb was too grateful to be finally making his escape to think too much on his father’s final words.


	4. Sansa, In the Stables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa almost interrupts her brother and sister in the stables. It leaves her with questions.

She figured out almost immediately what she has nearly stumbled upon, when Margaery stepped out of the stall. Sansa’s goodsister was just finishing up lacing her bodice. A moment later, Robb stepped out of the stall behind her, looking sweaty and flushed. Sansa wanted to turn and run back up the aisle to the stable door and forget she had seen them, but she knew it was already too late. Instead, she cleared her throat loudly, and both Margaery and her brother looked up in surprise.

“M-Margaery?” Sansa inquired, plastering what she hoped was a blank but pleasant smile on her own face.

“Oh, good morning, Sansa,” Margaery replied, sounding all the world as if she had been caught having a stroll with her husband rather than adjusting her clothing after a tryst with him in the stables. Robb, by contrast, fidgeted and looked more like Rickon did after being caught stealing sweets from the kitchen. Sansa wanted to roll her eyes at him, but she was far too gentle-mannered to stoop to that.

She was not completely innocent to what happened between men and women. She had of course seen animals, horses and dogs, mostly, in the act of procreation. She had heard enough talk among the men and women of Winterfell to know that the basic act of making babes was the same. This she knew even before her mother had started having rather uncomfortably frank conversations about what husbands and wives did together. Her mother had said that married people could and often did enjoy being together, but Sansa had always assumed that highborn couples did so in bed, at night, and didn’t do so when there was no need. Her eyes strayed down to Margaery’s waist, which swelled with her and Robb’s first child. Clearly, some felt more than mere enjoyment, and weren’t only performing the deed to conceive children. This was something new, and confusing. 

“I didn’t know you were particularly interested in riding, Sansa,” Margaery continued, breaking through her goodsister’s musings. There was a subtle barb in there, but Sansa could forgive her for using her unexpected appearance to deflect attention away from her own.

“I’m not particularly,” Sansa said, graciously. “I do like the quiet and cool of the stables on days like these, and the horses are gentle and soothing company.”

“Indeed,” Margaery responded with equal graciousness- and maybe a little condescension.

Sansa couldn’t resist. Her goodsister clearly saw her as a naïve, silly girl.

“And then I heard a noise!” Sansa exclaimed, widening her eyes.

“A noise?” 

Margaery, seemed a bit more alert, but feigned innocence. Robb sputtered and went more red.

“Yes, and then I came to see what it was and found you,” Sansa’s tone, and she suspected her expression, made it clear she knew exactly what they had been up to. She and Margaery regarded each other coolly for a moment, before Sansa saw the corner of her goodsister’s mouth curl upward in amusement.

“I hope we didn’t alarm you, Sansa,” she said, and Sansa could hear the genuine concern in her voice, and her own feelings softened. Margaery really did make Robb happy, and the whole family was so overjoyed about the new babe. Even her mother, who had clearly not liked Margaery in the beginning, was almost effusive in her affection towards Robb’s wife.

“You didn’t,” she replied, softly. “I was merely surprised.”

“Oh, good, I’m glad.”

Margaery appeared genuinely relieved. She moved forward, and Sansa observed that the babe was beginning to affect Margaery’s gait. At nearly six moons along, the bulk and weight of her belly made her lead with her hips and sway when she walked. In another woman, Sansa might have said she waddled, but Margaery made it look graceful, more like the rocking of a ship or a tree in the breeze. Sansa was gratified to see how quickly Robb came forward to take his wife’s arm. He’d been so protective of her, so attentive. She watched them go, hoping that someday she would have a husband who would regard her with the same care and tenderness. She wasn’t entirely sure what she felt about having a husband who desired her, as clearly Robb desired Margaery.

Sansa stroked the nose of the chestnut mare in a nearby stall and mused. She knew her parents were very carefully considering the many offers for Sansa’s hand, and reluctant to make a quick match. Her mother’s insistence that they wed her to a man she actually liked and felt comfortable with over a man of great wealth and rank was only now starting to make real sense. 

Perhaps it was time to initiate an uncomfortable conversation with her mother, to confirm her new suspicions.


	5. Jon, At the Hot Springs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets his goodsister, finally. She's a bit naked.

He missed Robb’s wedding, but he was pleased to be granted leave to visit Winterfell to attend his new nephew’s naming ceremony. It was strange enough to think of Robb as someone’s husband, but a father…it was almost too much to comprehend, and oddly painful. He knew, when he left for the Night’s Watch, that this would happen: Robb’s life would proceed through a predictable succession of events, and Jon’s would remain the same. It just seemed so very soon. 

His arrival in Winterfell was barely noticed. Most of the stablehands he knew, and knew him, so he was happy to hand his mount off to their care. He was chilled to the bone and filthy. The hot springs near Winterfell’s godswood was one of the few places one could get warm, and the only place to bathe without going to the bother of hauling hot buckets of water to one’s room for a bath.

Ghost followed him, his constant, silent shadow, when Jon reached the path to the springs. Late afternoon seemed a safe time to visit, as most of the family would be preparing for supper that evening, and the meal would likely be more elaborate and formal than Winterfell’s usual, due to the special occasion.

Ghost burst ahead of Jon, suddenly, and he was surprised to see a similar-sized but darker shape streaking in the other direction to meet him.

“Grey Wind?” He called. It was most definitely Robb’s direwolf, grown bigger like Ghost, but still recognizable by his distinctive coat. Grey Wind sniffed in Jon’s direction, then seemed to dismiss him as a threat or recognize him as pack, because he turned and loped back towards the springs, Ghost right behind him. Grey Wind’s presence meant Robb was there, and Jon was eager to see his brother for the first time in more than two years.

But when Jon had nearly reached the clearing, he could hear voices. Robb was not alone. He paused, and realized the second voice was feminine. He heard a sensual, throaty chuckle, and thought perhaps he should turn around and come back later.

“Ghost!” He heard Robb exclaim, and knew it was too late. “Where is Jon?”

Jon stepped out from behind the cover of the trees.

“I’m here!” He called. “I’m sorry…I hope I didn’t…I can come back.”

“No we’re…just finished,” Robb said, and then winced. The woman with him, entwined around him, giggled, and Jon felt his face grow hot. He had the distinct impression Robb didn’t just mean bathing.

He presumed- hoped- that the woman was his goodsister. Jon had departed Winterfell before Margaery had arrived and he had yet to meet her. The water did very little to hide the fact that they were both very naked, and Jon had to avert his eyes.

“I should come back,” he said, his eyes fixed on Ghost and Grey Wind, tussling affectionately on the banks of the springs.

“No,” the woman said. She had a low, husky voice. “We are…finished…as my husband said.” Jon heard the laughter in her words, a wicked mischievousness that surprised him. He was used to highborn ladies like Sansa and Lady Catelyn, modest and sometimes distant. Her words confirmed that she was, indeed, Robb’s wife.

Robb climbed out and dressed perfunctorily, while Margaery waited.

“If you wouldn’t mind turning around, Jon,” he said, grinning. Jon was confused, until he saw Robb shake out his cloak and hold it up, unfurled, and he realized it was a makeshift curtain to protect his wife’s modesty.

“Oh, of course!” Jon exclaimed, already turning, but Margaery was out of the water before he’d fully-averted his eyes, and he got a glimpse of full, firm breasts, a surprisingly small waist and long, shapely legs. She was truly beautiful, both in face and body. He felt a stab of male admiration but also jealousy. He was not entirely sure if he’d be so aware of her as a woman, of what she and Robb had, if it hadn’t been for his time with Ygritte. But he still couldn’t dwell long on Ygritte; it was still too painful, and he pushed his thoughts ruthlessly aside.

He felt a little ridiculous standing there, staring into the woods while Margaery dressed, and thought again that he should have refused and gone back.

"All finished! You can turn back around now, Jon,” Margaery called gaily.

Robb threw the cloak over Margaery’s shoulders and she smiled up at him. She really was lovely, and her coloring was oddly complimentary to Robb’s; her eyes were more grey than blue, and her hair more brown than his but still had a hint of auburn. They were a handsome couple. And judging by the tender expression on Robb’s face, he had somewhere along the way fallen in love with his wife.

Belated introductions were made, after Robb grabbed him and nearly squeezed the life out of him. Jon gave as good as he got, embracing his brother so hard he could feel his ribs creak.

“I look forward to meeting my nephew,” Jon said, and both Robb’s and Margaery’s faces lit up at the mention of their child.

“We look forward to introducing you,” Margaery said, with a warm smile. “He has the Stark look, like Lord Eddard and Lady Arya- and you.”

“He does?” Jon asked, his heart lifting.

“He does,” she replied, and reached over to give his hand a gentle squeeze. 

Except for Father, Arya and Robb, the Stark family rarely showed him any genuine, gentle affection, and Jon found his goodsister’s gesture unexpectedly sweet. She was clearly accepting of him in a way he hadn’t dared hope she would. He was sure even the worst of Lady Catelyn’s glares couldn’t dampen his own happiness and his anticipation of getting to know the two newest additions to the Stark family.


	6. Arya In Their Bedchambers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya learns why it is really, really a good idea to knock.

In hindsight, it was clear she had not been thinking. Arya had only meant to retrieve Robb’s old practice sword. Bran was being annoying and not sharing his and someone had damaged the blade of the other one, and Arya knew Robb had one of his own. It was not in the armory, so the next most likely spot was his bedchamber. 

She didn’t notice, or realize, that Robb’s door had been closed, although in her own defense it hadn’t been locked, either.

It took a long moment for Arya to take in that the room was occupied, and what the occupants were doing. She stood, dumbfounded, with her hand still on the latch of the open door, frozen in place. Neither Robb nor Margaery appeared to have noticed his sister’s sudden arrival. Both were completely naked and on top of the covers, so Arya had an unfortunately unobstructed view. Margaery was above and astride Robb and very vigorously bouncing up and down. It took another moment to comprehend that she was bouncing up and down on Robb’s cock. It was angry and red and swollen, and kept appearing and disappearing as Margaery rose and fell. 

Then there were the noises they were making. Robb was grunting and groaning and Margaery was making a high, panting, wailing sound that was getting louder and higher with each bounce. It was all highly undignified. Arya wondered if all people looked and sounded so ridiculous when they fucked. 

She knew she should turn around, leave, quietly close the door, but she couldn’t move.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Margaery suddenly cried, and her back bowed. Her hips kept moving, but in more of a grinding than a bouncing motion and she began to tremble.

Robb’s fingers clutched Margaery’s hips so hard that Arya was sure he was going to leave bruises. He tensed beneath his wife’s writhing body, let out a long, loud groan and shuddered violently, followed by a comical, wheezing grunt. Arya realized that she had just watched them both peak, and she had a sudden, urgent need to bathe. It was going to take a long, long time to forget what she’d just seen, and it was her own damned fault she’d seen it in the first place.

Robb sat up and gathered Margaery up in his arms as she sagged over him. Arya had to admit they looked sweet like that, embracing, Robb tenderly stroking his wife’s damp hair back from her forehead,as they exchanged gentle kisses. 

She might have taken the opportunity to tiptoe away at that moment, while they were both still occupied, but she tarried just a little bit too long.

“Arya!” Robb shouted, when he spotted his sister over Margaery’s shoulder. Her goodsister’s head whipped around to look over her own shoulder, her eyes wide and startled.

“I’m sorry!” Arya blurted out. “I- I just…It’s the middle of the afternoon!”

“Get out!” Robb practically bellowed, simultaneously attempting to push his wife off his lap and pull the covers over them. Too late, thought Arya.

“I thought you had locked the door,” he said to Margaery.

“I thought you had,” she replied, with a huff.

“Arya, get out!” He cried again.

“What is going on in here, I can hear you all the way- oh.”

She cringed, and Robb buried his face in his hands. To make matters even worse, their mother had just walked in on the whole horrible confrontation. Arya could tell the moment she looked at Catelyn’s face that her mother was clear what Robb and Margaery had been up to. There weren’t many other reasons why they’d be in bed together, and although Robb had managed to get the bedclothes over them both, it was quite obvious they both were naked, at least from the waist up. Then there was the fact they were both flushed and perspiring, and then there was the smell: sweat and a sort of musky scent…gods, Arya was going to be sick.

“Arya is very, very sorry that she violated your privacy by entering your rooms without knocking, isn’t she?” Catelyn asked, grasping her younger daughter’s shoulder firmly.

“Yes, she is very, very sorry,” Arya recited, woodenly.

“She knows that a closed door means one should never enter a bedchamber without knocking, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, yes she does,” Arya sighed, hanging her head.

“She will never, ever enter your room without at least knocking and waiting for a reply, will she?”

“No, she most definitely will not.”

Catelyn took her by the shoulders and turned her around firmly, marching her out the door and shutting it securely behind her.

“Arya…” She began, turning her daughter back to look her in the eye.

“I know, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…It’s the middle of the afternoon!”

Catelyn sighed. “Robb and Margaery have two small children. They had a moment away from them and wished to be…alone. Their need for any privacy they can get is understandable, and you must respect that.”  
The act her brother and goodsister was indulging in seemed repulsive to Arya. Clearly, it was enjoyable to some people or so many of them wouldn’t be doing it, and doing it often. She didn’t understand it, but she understood what her mother was saying. She nodded, silently.

“Good. You can apologize to them properly after supper.”

Arya’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded again. She really did adore her oldest brother, and she couldn’t bear the thought of him being angry at her, and she’s grown to like Margaery very much. Margaery managed to be lady-like and yet bold, out-spoken and smart, and Arya admired her a great deal. She would be humble, and contrite, and hope none of them had to speak of it again.

“Off you go, Arya, and remember, a closed bedchamber door…”

“Of course, Mother,” Arya interrupted, glad for the final reprieve.

She was hoping the day would come when she wouldn’t have to worry about barging in on anyone doing rude things to each other. Robb and Margaery would eventually have enough children and stop all this nonsense. Her parents didn’t do that anymore, did they? They had enough children and they were old.

Arya was all too happy to put all these uncomfortable thoughts aside and return to the practice yard, empty-handed but free.


End file.
